d, and handed it back. The boy opened it. As usual a
flaming verse arrested his eye. He pointed with his finger at the words and
read aloud:--

"'_He shall call upon me and I will answer him: I will be with him in
trouble: I will deliver him and honor him_.'"

"'Tis a fair promise," said the princess, "but I see no flaming letters."

"I do, your highness," returned Gabriel simply, and looking into his eyes
she knew that he spoke the truth.

She gazed at him curiously. "Where go you now, and what do you do?" she
asked, after a pause.

"That I know not," replied Gabriel, "but God will show me."

"By means of that book?"

"Yes, your highness," and Gabriel bowed his head and moved toward the door.
Topaz followed close at his heel. If Gabriel were going for a walk, why, so
much the better. He was going, too.

The boy smiled rather sadly, for he knew the golden dog loved him, and
there was no one else anywhere who cared whether he went or came. He
stooped and, picking up the little creature, carried him to the princess.
"You will have to hold him from following me, your highness."

The girl took the dog, but he struggled and broke from her grasp, to leap
once again upon his departing friend.

"Wait," said the princess, and rose. Gabriel stood, all attention, and
gazed at her, where she stood, smiling kindly upon him. "I promised a full
reward to whomever returned me my dog. You have not yet received even the
window-full of pink and white sweetmeats which I promised you this
morning."

Gabriel smiled, too.

"Where is your home, Gabriel, and why are you not returning there?"

"I have no home. It is a long story, your highness, and would not interest
you."

"Ah, but it does interest me," and the princess smiled more brightly than
ever; "because if you have no home you can remain in our service."

A light flashed into Gabriel's sober face. "What happiness!" he exclaimed.

No answer could have pleased the princess better than the pleasure in his
eyes. "Topaz is not willing you should leave him, and neither am I. When
you are older, his majesty, my father, will look after your fortunes. For
the present you shall be a page."

"Your highness!" protested the Lady Gertrude, "have you considered? The
pages are of lofty birth. Will it not go hard with the peasant? Give him a
purse and let him go."

The princess answered but did not remove her gaze from the boy's flushed
face, while Topaz's cold little nose nestled i